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This is neither special nor ordinary as these words are referring to that which defies all descriptions and labels.
The noise coming through the wall from next door is simply just that - sounds free to be sounds leaving no trace in awareness.
Each of us has our own story about death and grief but in the end that’s all they are. Distracting images and tall tales about everything but what is.
The fire again. Crackling and sputtering a fuss over damp logs. The dog is here, still but watchful. Dinner past, we sit in silence and read.
There is no Buddhism here, no Zen, no Advaita, no Dzogchen, no awakening, no enlightenment, no spirituality, no tradition, no duality or non duality. Just the cool brush of breeze through window, the exquisitely simple pain of loss and these words appearing out of nowhere.
The raw, unmediated pain of grief of an individual I support at work. There are few if no words that can meet such anguish. Simple unseparated presence of being is all one can bring in this moment. To hold, to allow whatever arises.
Birth, life and death are not personal
but we make them so
Who are we to claim them as our own?
These miracles of the universe are free
to come and go as they please
with the weather and the birds
On my way to work this morning, just letting everything unfold without explanation, rhyme or reason: the toot of a horn, the calls of the gulls, the bright, shining silence of the moon.
An evening spent in good conversation with my wonderful wife. Happily fuelled by a bottle of Baileys and a sporadically puttering open fire thanks to freshly chopped, slightly damp logs.
The time for bed is drawing near thanks to an early start for work in the morning.